


En Washington Heights

by orphan_account



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: In The Heights Au, In which Alexander is Usnavi, Lafayette is Sonny, M/M, and John is Vanessa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-04
Updated: 2017-03-04
Packaged: 2018-09-28 08:37:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10081709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: In The Heights AU where Alexander just doesn't know how much a "bit of cinnamon" is.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So this is just a small story, but let me know if I should turn it into a chaptered work!

Alexander glared at the empty coffee bin as if it was a chewed up wad of bubble gum stuck to the sole of his shoe. It was six in the morning and he had just opened the bodega for the day, only, the coffee grounds were in apparent MIA status. He pinched the bridge of his nose. This was a crime scene, really. It wasn’t a chore to find the culprit, as the only other person who worked in the store was his dearest friend, Lafayette, who he had lived with since he emigrated from France. Alexander dropped the empty bin onto the counter and called into to back room, “Laf, where did you put the new coffee grounds?”

The reply bounced off of the empty shop, “I don’t know, in the bin?” He drawled out slowly, sarcasm lacing his voice like quill twirling through an inkpot. Alexander squeezed his eyes shut, took a deep breath, and called out again. 

“Laf, they’re not in the bin,” he said tightly. A light thump sounded from the back room and Lafayette slid out, in the middle of tying up his unruly curls. Lafayette shrugged, unfazed by Alexander’s irritated tone, and stood on his toes to glance over at the empty bin.

“Huh,” Lafayette noted, “Guess they aren’t. Did you lose them?” He asked tiredly, obviously not seeing the seriousness of the situation. They lost their coffee grounds in a store known for its coffee! Alexander could already see the angry customers griping over their missing morning liquid sleep. Alexander blinked slowly.

“No puedo creerte,” he groaned with a sigh. Lafayette narrowed his eyes at him.

“You know I don’t speak Spanish, asshole,” Lafayette complained, but there was a hint of laughter behind his words. He ruffled Alexander’s hair (earning him an indigent squawk) and chuckled. “Don’t worry, I’ll go find the grounds.”

“Well, maybe you should learn Spanish,” Alexander muttered, still irritated at Lafayette’s irresponsibility. He loved him, though. They were practically family. It was just petty bickering; there was no real anger behind the words. He made a half-assed effort to flatten his hair back down, but he knew there were still strays.

“Maybe you should learn French,” Lafayette countered, wiggling his eyebrows at him with a look of triumph before slipping past him into the storage room. Alexander rolled his eyes and turned on his heel to face him.

“I know enough to get by, French fry,” Alexander pointed out, crossing his arms challengingly. Lafayette looked over at him with a raised eyebrow and a smirk, and that’s when Alexander knew that he was in for it. Rapidly, Lafayette began to speak French faster than Alexander could comprehend. Alexander’s eyes widened, but he was up to the challenge. Lafayette wasn’t winning this one. His mouth opened and closed dumbly as he tried to translate what he was saying.

“Um…fish? Tuna. Tuna sandwiches?” He tried, still stuck on one French phrase while Lafayette was talking faster than an auctioneer (As the ladies at the salon would say, he was talking like a Dominican.) Alexander pursed his lips. He knew that he was losing, so, childishly, he shot back fluent Spanish at Lafayette. The two raised their voices, trying to shout over the other in their native language. They continued to grow louder until the bell above the shop’s door cut them off. Alexander looked between the customer and Lafayette. “Pendejo,” he shot at him. Lafayette laughed good-naturedly and clapped his back.

“Oui,” he agreed before going to help the customer. Alexander shook his head fondly at Lafayette and continued the abandoned search for the coffee grounds. Of course, the grounds were sitting on top of all of the boxes in the storage room. Lafayette had probably forgotten them while looking for items to restock. Quickly, he snatched the container and went to make a pot of fresh coffee behind the counter.

Just as he hit the “brew” button, the bells on the door jingled (well, banged really) again. “No, no, no, no!” yelled a voice as the clanging died down. Alexander raised an eyebrow and turned around, ready to ask them to quiet down because yes, it really was ass o’clock in the morning. At the sight of the customer, Alexander felt himself relax. It was just John Laurens, and he couldn’t yell at John Laurens. His eyes would probably just do that dumb puppy dog thing and he would apologize with the most stupidly sincere tone and fuck, Alexander would be weak at the knees. Lafayette and the customer looked over at the commotion. He saw Lafayette’s eyes widen and he internally groaned. Lafayette aggressively pointed over the customer’s shoulder at John as if Alexander hadn’t noticed him when he stormed in yelling into his phone. Alexander tried to give him a look that said, “No fucking shit,” but apparently it came out wrong, because Lafayette just answered with a very grotesque hand motion. Alexander fake gagged and turned away from Lafayette before he could become any more unsubtle, if that was even possible.

Alexander watched as John ran a hand through his wild curls, staring at the wall as he shouted into the phone. Awkwardly, he shifted from foot to foot, waiting for him to finish the call. He fiddled with the hem of his shirt, glancing between John and Lafayette, who was still watching the scene. The comforting smell of fresh coffee began to drift around the shop and he breathed in deeply. Across from him, another customer walked through the door, eyeing John with furrowed eyebrows. Suddenly, John hung up his phone and took a deep breath, muttering, “I have had it hasta la madre with this mierda,” under his breath. He walked up to the counter and a kind smile immediately lit up his darkened features. “Well, you’re certainly a sight for sore eyes. Good morning, Alexander,” He greeted him.

Alexander felt his heart skip a beat. He rubbed the back of his neck with a laugh. “Morning, John. The usual?” He asked. John nodded and he set to work. “What was the trouble on the phone?” He asked cautiously, not sure if it was his place to ask.

He heard John sigh behind him before he said, “Just finance shit, don’t worry.” Alexander nodded, he could understand that. The coffee pot was warm to the touch and it brought a comforting, familiar feeling to him. “Oh, would you mind adding a bit of cinnamon to my cup?” He asked over the counter. Alexander stopped for a second. A bit of cinnamon? How much was that?

“Um, sure. No problem,” He said quietly. “It’s in the back. I’ll go grab it,” he rushed out. He made hurried eye contact with Lafayette and nodded to the back room. Alexander put the pot of coffee down clumsily, banging it against the side a few times before successfully setting it down, and rushed into the back. Lafayette followed not long after.

Lafayette tilted his head. “What’s wrong? Did he talk to you and you just popped a-“

“Shut up!” Alexander hissed. Lafayette bit his lip to hold back a laugh. He was too short to be threatening. “No, I have a serious question. This is life or death, success or failure.” Lafayette’s expression melted into one of concern.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know. I’m sorry for jokin’. What’s wrong?” He asked quietly. Alexander ran a hand down his face and sighed.

“How much is a ‘bit of cinnamon’?” 

This time, Lafayette really did start laughing. Alexander pushed his shoulder lightly.

“Hardee-fucking-har, dude. I’m serious!” Alexander whisper-shouted. “John asked for a bit of cinnamon in his coffee, but how much is that?”

Lafayette composed himself, but his shoulders were still shaking. “Like, a sprinkle,” he whispered back, barely managing to keep back his laughter.

Alexander narrowed his eyes at him. “I’m just trying not to fuck up a loyal customer’s coffee, you jackass,” he snapped. Lafayette made a disbelieving face.

“You mean, you’re trying not to fuck up your crush’s coffee,” he pointed out. Alexander scowled at him and Lafayette raised his hands defensively. “Here,” he offered, reaching over to grab a spare cup. “Go grab me the cinnamon.” Alexander did as told, and when he came back, Lafayette had a shiny look in his eyes. He thrusted the cinnamon at him.

“I don’t want to know,” he sighed. Lafayette sprinkled a bit of cinnamon onto the bottom of the empty cup and handed it to him with a wink. Alexander rolled his eyes. “Thanks, dude,” he said sincerely. He bounced out of the backroom and finished making the cup of coffee.

“One usual, plus cinnamon,” He told John with a small smile. John passed a five across the counter, but Alexander pushed it back. “It’s on the house,” he offered. John gave him a grateful look.

“You’re too good to me. Gracias,” he sang. He held the cup up in cheers and left the store.

Alexander slumped against the counter. Why couldn’t he have just said “One teaspoon of cinnamon exactly”? That would have been much easier. He straightened his back and turned to see Lafayette with a mischievous smile, still with that shiny look in his eyes. Alexander closed his eyes and looked up to the roof. “Fuck. What did you do?” He asked through his teeth.

Lafayette shrugged innocently. “Nothing bad. I just wrote your name and number on the side of the cup while you were getting the cinnamon,” he said nonchalantly. Alexander snapped his eyes open in shock. He was going to fry that French fry.


End file.
